


Wet suits you

by soy_em



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean in Shorts, Fluff and Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-16 15:58:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11256219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soy_em/pseuds/soy_em
Summary: Dean was wearing the shorts again.





	Wet suits you

**Author's Note:**

> For the Wincest writing challenge Round 9
> 
> Prompt: waterballoons
> 
> I completely forgot to thank [FantasyGeek](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FantasyGeek/pseuds/FantasyGeek) aka [Jerksarehot](https://jerksarehot.tumblr.com/) for being an awesome beta reader and cheerleader, so thank you!!

Dean was wearing the shorts again. 

It was ridiculously hot in Lebanon. The sun was pouring down, bleaching the fields sand-yellow and scorching the crops. The Bunker, with its thick walls, was a haven of cool relief, but Dean had chosen to pull Baby up to a nearby field to wash her properly in the sun. And he’d chosen to do it while wearing the shorts. 

Bored of looking for a new case, Sam had come out of the Bunker in search of his brother and some amusement. He’d followed the tinny sounds of Dean’s old radio, which blared a jumbled mix of old eighties rock from the local station. As he’d approached, he’d heard Dean singing blithely along to Foreigner, uncaring that he couldn’t carry a tune. Sam had smiled along with his brother’s voice, happy that Dean was happy.

And then he’d rounded the corner to find Dean in the shorts. 

Though calling them shorts, he felt, was perhaps a mis-service to actual, respectable short trousers everywhere. Dean had cut off a pair of old, threadbare jeans and gotten a little snip-happy with his scissors, in Sam’s opinion. The denim now stretched only a few inches down Dean’s strong, thick thighs; defining the muscles and revealing fine hairs which were turning even blonder in the sun. 

Dean crouched over the hood, reaching on tiptoes to clean the windshield. The position meant that Sam was more aware than ever (though when was he not aware) of the beautiful curve of Dean’s legs that his brother hated so much, and it also meant that the already short shorts rose up to gently cup his ass. Sam stopped dead as he took in the sight, his breathing shallow as he stared. 

He’d tried to suppress his feelings for Dean for years; had run away to Stanford and been dragged back and had spent the next several years expecting the frustration of daily living with Dean to cure him of his feelings. He’d lost Dean for an extended period twice (three times, if he counted the debacle at the mystery spot) and had only survived each time by the skin of his teeth. Eventually, he’d come to the conclusion that this was his life, and while Dean would never know about or return his feelings, he should stop suppressing them and let himself glory in what he actually had. So now, he spent all his time with Dean and accepted the platonic love and affection his brother freely doled out (even if that love was demonstrated in ways that were unique to Dean). And he let himself look, and enjoy his brother at every possible moment.

Dean’s beauty had not dimmed with age; if anything he’d become more stunning. And he’d become so much more muscular in the last couple of years; hours spent unable to sleep because of the Mark had translated into time well spent in the Bunker’s small weight room. For the first time in years, Sam felt small next to his brother, like Dean could manhandle him around; and it brought memories flooding back of being 16 and wanting Dean to hold him down so badly. He could vividly remember some of the fantasies he’d had back then of Dean picking him up and throwing him down on ratty motel sheets, taking exactly what he wanted from Sam; and those thoughts hadn’t lost any of their power with age. 

Sam didn’t realise how lost he’d gotten in his thoughts until Dean yelled at him. “Staring at my ass again, Sammy?” Dean asked, grinning and wiggling against the car.

“Thinking about whether we’ve got any cheerleader outfits for you to wear so you can molest that car in the right clothes,” Sam shot back, trying not to think how good Dean would look in a little red skirt. 

“My baby needs all the love,” Dean crooned at the car, petting the Impala’s sleek paintwork. 

“If you keep rubbing up against it like that, I’m sure it’ll be getting a lot more love than it wants,” Sam said, grinning. He’d finally mastered bantering like this with Dean without losing his cool, and he took every opportunity to show off his new skill.

“Are you mocking me?” Dean said, standing up and staring at his brother. He moved around the car, trailing the sponge across the roof. 

“Always,” Sam grinned back. 

“Oh good. Because I’d hate to do this to a nice little brother,” and suddenly Dean bent down behind the car. When he stood back up, he was clutching something bright close to his chest; but before Sam could puzzle out what it was, it was flying through the air towards him.

Sam had excellent reflexes, but they were always a little relaxed when it was just him and Dean, and so he didn’t manage to duck in time. Freezing cold water exploded across his chest, soaking through his t-shirt and plastering his hair.

“What the fuck, Dean?” he yelled, not understanding what had happened. His shout was met only by manic laughter from his brother, who sent another projectile into the air which scored a direct hit on Sam’s head, somehow even colder than the last. 

Sam yelled in rage. He spared only a moment to wonder where Dean had found the water balloons before he started moving towards Dean at full speed, determined to exact revenge.

Dean continued to laugh as Sam charged towards him, only momentarily slowed by another balloon hitting him in the crotch this time. Cold spread across his trousers and he gasped, but kept barreling towards Dean, who finally saw the danger he was in. Grabbing up a bucket, Dean started to run around the car, throwing balloons as he went, but the bucket hampered his movements and Sam gained on him fast. 

A final water balloon hit Sam in the face at point black range, but he spluttered through the water and kept chasing Dean. Finally, he caught up to his brother and dived, tackling Dean from behind in an attempt to win control over the water balloon supply bucket. Dean continued to laugh as he fell, and Sam couldn’t help but join in, his laughter mingling with Dean’s as the bucket rolled out of both their hands. They both scrambled towards it but Sam’s longer arms gave him the advantage and he snagged the bucket before Dean could get to it.

“Ha!” he shouted, triumphant. “Shoe’s on the other foot now!” 

Dean tried to scuttle away but Sam tugged him back, managing to slide onto the top of Dean’s thighs. Dean shook with laughter beneath him, and Sam took just a moment to appreciate the sheer joy on his brother’s face, so rarely seen, before he plunged his hands into the bucket. To his joy, he found that there were plenty of balloons left. 

“Oh, you are so going to pay,” he crowed, and slammed the first one down onto Dean’s chest. His brother shrieked, writhing with shock, and Sam pulled out another balloon and then another, until Dean was soaked beneath him. Dean looked so young with his hair flattened down, his face crumpled with laugher, and Sam laughed too, so hard he gasped for breath. 

Finally, his hand wrapped around the last balloon, and he chucked the bucket aside. Looking down, his hair dripping onto Dean, he raised the balloon above his head. Dean’s eyes focused intently on the balloon, and after a dramatic pause Sam began to lower his arm. 

Quick as lightning, Dean slammed his hand up, bursting the balloon in front of Sam’s face. Icy water cascaded onto them both, and Sam inhaled sharply. When he looked back, Dean was still staring intently at him, and suddenly he fisted both his hands in Sam’s wet t-shirt. “Goddamn, Sammy, wet suits you,” Dean said, breathless, and pulled Sam forwards. 

Sam didn’t hesitate for even a moment. Dean’s mouth crashed into his, Sam pulled down with a force he couldn’t resist even though he had all the leverage. It only lasted for a moment before Dean rolled them across the dirty ground, until he was looming over Sam. 

“Look at you, Sammy,” he said, voice suddenly hoarse, before diving in for another kiss. Sam felt like all his missed Christmases had come at once as his brother’s lips met his, tongue sliding demandingly into his mouth. Dean took control of the kiss easily, his hands slamming down onto the ground on either side of Sam’s head. Sam tipped his head back to give Dean better access as their bodies slotted into position against each other, and he dug his fingernails into Dean’s strong shoulders. 

Dean pulled back for just a second. “Tell me this is ok, Sammy,” he ground out, green eyes intent on Sam’s. 

“More than,” was all Sam could manage, and then they were kissing again. Dean was making little noises in the back of his throat that Sam thought he could get addicted to, and his hips started to rock against Sam’s, setting off trembles in Sam’s limbs. 

Sam couldn’t help himself; he grabbed at the shorts he’d been staring at, feeling Dean’s firm ass beneath them. Dean’s hips shot forwards, rubbing them together. It was all too easy to run his hands under the shorts, and he soon found that Dean wasn’t wearing any underwear. 

“Seriously, Dean?” he said, pulling back to look at his brother. “Doesn’t that chafe?”

“Better get me out of them then Sammy, if you’re so concerned.”

Sam didn’t need to be asked twice. He fumbled at the buttons on Dean’s shorts, and soon Dean had wiggled out of them, leaving him naked from the waist down. Sam paused for a moment to get his first look at Dean’s cock, which was just as big as he’d always imagined, but within seconds Dean tugged at Sam’s t-shirt, pulling Sam’s arms up. The wet t-shirt got stuck around his head, impeding his view. Dean started cackling again as Sam fought with the shirt, and when Sam finally got it off, he was faced with Dean’s blinding grin. 

“You think this is so fucking funny,” Sam started, but Dean interrupted him.

“Been wanting to get you naked for years, Sam, a few more minutes ain’t gonna make a huge difference.”

That declaration was enough to stop any more bickering, and Sam got back to pulling at Dean’s own t-shirt, which came off much more smoothly. Dean got Sam’s pants undone within seconds of getting his hands on the buttons, and he pulled both pants and underwear down in one go, leaving them both gloriously naked. 

It was only then that Sam stopped to think that they were in a field, near enough to a road that any passing car could easily spot them. But, he reasoned, they had no near neighbours and hardly ever saw anyone up here; it was worth the risk. Having come to terms with the possibility, however low, of being arrested for public indecency, he brought his hands up to Dean’s face and tugged him down for another scorching kiss.

Everything was so much better now that they were naked. The heat of the day had them both quickly sweating, adding to the water already covering their bodies and they slid together, Sam’s hands roaming up and down Dean’s back. He was intoxicated with the feeling of Dean above him as he’d dreamed all these years, Dean’s hands pinning him down as they moved together. Almost as if he could read Sam’s thoughts, Dean pulled his hands up above his head and held them there, and Sam writhed against the restraint, reduced to wordlessness already. 

“Like that, baby brother?” Dean asked, sly; and Sam nodded frantically, goosebumps breaking out across his skin at the words. 

“Like me calling you baby brother?” 

Sam’s nod this time almost headbutted Dean in the face and Dean chuckled, dark and low and almost threatening. 

“You shouldn’t give up your secrets so easily, Sammy. I’m gonna take full advantage of that…”

Sam couldn’t find any reason to worry about that at all. 

Dean switched his grip so that both of Sam’s wrists were in one hand and swept his free hand down Sam’s front. He scratched his nails across Sam’s right nipple, and Sam arched in his grip, only just cutting back his moan. 

Sam was dimly aware that he’d become too turned on too fast, that he was losing control and would probably be mercilessly mocked for it later; but he’d wanted this since he knew what wanting was and he couldn’t seem to stop himself. It felt like Dean’s grip on his wrists was all that was keeping him from flying apart under the scorching sun, the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth. 

Dean’s hand moved lower still, skating across Sam’s hipbones and then down to his inner thigh. Sam had expected something else and he couldn’t help but whine as Dean’s hand bypassed his cock. Dean’s hands tightened around his wrists in response.

“That’s it, Sammy, want to hear you. You’re making such pretty noises.”

Dean was just too hot to be true, Sam thought, looking at his brother’s intent face. Dean’s plush lips were quirked in an amused bow, freckles standing out against the flush of his cheeks. Sam thunked his head back against the ground, pushing his hips up. 

“Pretty little brother,” Dean murmured and Sam couldn’t help himself any longer. He moaned loudly, pushing against Dean’s grip and Dean slammed him back down.

“That’s what I wanted,” Dean voice was altogether too smug, but he finally moved his hand to Sam’s cock, wrapping around it and squeezing gently. Dean soon settled into a rhythm, moving his hand not quite as fast as Sam wanted. 

“You too,” Sam managed to pant as fireworks went off across his body, and Dean chuckled. 

“Want to watch you come apart first, Sammy. Wanted to see it for years, see how pretty you look.” 

Sam shouldn’t get off so hard on being called pretty; he wasn’t a girl and there was nothing feminine or delicate about him. But apparently it was a kink he’d been unaware of, because everytime Dean said it his eyes fluttered closed and his brain short circuited. 

Dean finally sped up his hand, encouraging Sam to rock into his fist and soon enough he was right on the edge. Dean bent his head and kissed him, biting at Sam’s lips. “Come for me, little brother.”

Sam lost it, hips snapping up and back arching. Lights flashed under his eyelids as he came, muscles jumping uncontrollably across his body, and he drifted back to the Kansas earth slowly, head still spinning. 

When he felt able to open his eyes again, blinking dizzy against the sunlight, Dean was poised above him, hand still pinning Sam’s wrists. Dean stroked his own cock, eyes roving across Sam. 

Sam wanted to ask to help, to offer his own hands, but his brain had bled out of his ears so all he managed was a jumble of sounds and a weak press of his hands where Dean was holding on.

“Stay still, Sammy, there’s a good boy,” Dean panted. “Want to look at you properly.” 

Apparently there was another kink Sam didn’t know he had because his cock jerked weakly at the praise falling from Dean’s lips. Dean’s lips curved again as his hand sped up. “Got a whole list of things I wanna do to you. Can’t wait.”

Sam finally found his voice again. “Yeah?” he grunted, still breathless. 

“Oh yeah,” Dean agreed. He was getting closer, Sam could tell; he was flushed all over, hips snapping fast and suddenly, with a groan, he came all over Sam’s stomach. Falling forwards, he kissed Sam sloppily, both of them groaning, too uncoordinated for finesse. 

Finally, Dean seemed to come back to himself and let go of Sam’s wrists. He pushed himself up on his hands suddenly, looking down at Sam with concern. “Did I hurt you, Sam?” he asked, a little frantic.

“No,” Sam replied. His arms felt like jelly, but he managed to raise them high enough to loop around Dean’s neck, pulling his brother against his chest. Dean slid to one side to avoid crushing Sam, and moved his own hand into Sam’s hair, scritching lightly. He looked intently at Sam again.

“And you definitely, definitely wanted that?” 

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Sam mumbled, still too dazed for banter, and pulled Dean back against him, tangling their legs together. He could feel himself starting to slip into sleep, the heat of the day combining with the warmth of Dean against his front to lull him into a comfortable, dreamy place. He was not happy when yet again, Dean pulled away.

“No sleeping, Sammy,” Dean said, shaking him lightly. “Gotta go inside before someone sees us.”

“Meh,” was Sam’s very eloquent response, but Dean insisted, pulling him up. 

“Come on, let’s go to bed. We’ll have a little nap, and then I can start on my list of things I want to do to you.” 

Sam definitely woke up a little at the dark promise in Dean’s words, blinking his eyes sleepily at his beautiful brother. Despite wanting them to go inside, Dean seemed unconcerned that he was standing in a field buck naked, confidence oozing from him as always. He tugged on Sam’s hand, pulling him towards the entrance to the Bunker.

“Hang on,” Sam said, spying something just behind Dean. Stepping around his brother, careless of the sun shining down on his own naked body, Sam crouched down and picked up one last, unexploded water balloon. “Dean,” he said, watching as his brother turned around.

The balloon hit Dean full in the face, water cascading down his face and chest. Dean yelled, furious, and Sam took off for the doorway, running to keep ahead of his brother but unable to stop himself from looking behind him to make sure that Dean was close. It wasn’t as if he didn’t want to be caught... 

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my [Tumblr](http://soy-em.tumblr.com/).


End file.
